I need a new disease. Not for me, not exactly, but for my son. Instead of stories about two mystery solvers named Sam and Lydia, he wants me to regale him with chronicles of ailments, with tales of viruses and bacteria.
This started yesterday, because we were going to the doctor to get Hepatitis A shots. (We bought an enormous bag of frozen fruit this summer that was recalled as possibly contaminated.) And I have already run out of diseases. Continue reading
AG’s mouseover says that astronomers began charting the motions of the planets, continued through the law of gravitation, and ended up with us on the moon; so sure, the planets affect our lives.
I have nothing to add. If I did, I’d probably end up telling you I read my horoscope every day. And that, I’ll never admit.
Except to say, it’s always wrong.
_______
Scientists, policymakers, FDA officials, industry spokespersons–talk to my science journalism students! Yes, they haven’t received their masters degrees yet from New York University’s Science, Health and Environmental Reporting Program (SHERP); and yes, most of them are newbies to the profession. But you shouldn’t ignore their emails or make them send reminder messages two or three times before you respond–and then tell them to just read your latest paper or report because you don’t have time to talk to them on the telephone. You won’t be doing them a favor, because after much effort and frustration they will eventually find someone else to talk to; you will be doing yourself a favor, because they are the future of science journalism. By helping them you will be helping yourselves get the word out about what you are doing. Continue reading
December 2 – 6
This week, Cassie explored the freakonomic chain of events that leads from repurposed bednets to the rise of a perilous parasite.
Roberta wondered why she can never quite remember what that e-book was about.
Richard revealed the dirty secrets of astronomers: “the library is my telescope now.”
Michelle introduced us to the unassuming man who chronicled more than 150,000 botanical specimens.
And Helen rediscovered the books of Oz — and found that their writing stands the test of time. The science? Not so much.
Ever since I read a New York Times article about the possibility of bedbugs spreading through library books, I’ve been too paranoid to check out a book from my local library. (Yes, I know people have argued that the article was way overblown. What can I say? I have an irrational fear of the bedbug.) So I was thrilled when I finally figured out how to borrow e-books from the library. First I requested Admission by Jean Hanff Korelitz, and it magically appeared on my iPad. Then in a frenzy of OMG-this-is-amazing, I put holds on about 15 more e-books. After finishing the first novel, I immediately downloaded the next one in my queue.
I love how easy it is to get the books, and I think I read more quickly and spend more time reading when they’re in electronic format. But my experience of processing the text does seem different. Sometimes, after I’ve finished an e-book, I don’t feel like I’ve really “read” it; it’s as if the 1s and 0s have washed through my brain without lodging anywhere. I remember reading a long, beautifully-written novel about World War II on my tablet awhile back, but I don’t recall a single thing about the plot except that it involved three brothers. Continue reading
In August 2012, 10 Israelis took a quick dip in a mountain lake in western Uganda. The lake, called Nyinambuga, sits in an ancient volcanic crater. The blue-green water of Lake Nyinambuga no doubt looked enticing, but it was rife with blood flukes, parasitic flatworms that burrow through the skin, invade the blood vessels, and feed on red blood cells.
Three months later one of the boys in the group ended up in the office of Dr. Eli Schwartz, a physician who specializes in infectious diseases and travel medicine at Sheba Medical Center in Tel-Hashomer, Israel. Since his return from Africa, he had been coughing. He had suffered headaches and intermittent fevers. The boy’s lab work and recent African adventure led Schwartz to suspect schistosomiasis, a blood fluke infection. The US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention confirmed it. Continue reading
Before dawn on October 3, 1932, in the small Columbia River town of Bingen, Washington, an 82-year-old man walked to the depot to catch the morning train to Portland. Under circumstances that remain unclear, the arriving train struck him down, killing him almost instantly.
The man had lived in town for more than half a century, and he was known as a shy, somewhat eccentric bachelor who loved flowers. Not until the Portland Oregonian published his obituary—under the headline “Famed Botanist Killed“—did his neighbors realize that he had an international reputation.
Lately I’ve been reading my way through the series of Oz books. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is only the first in a series of 14 books, and it’s not remotely the best.
It’s fascinating to reread books I loved as a child. Some are still great. Others have inexplicably morphed into poorly-written, preachy duds. Fortunately, the Oz books are the former type. They were published between 1900 to 1920 and vary in quality, but the made-up world is fun and Baum’s sense of humor holds up well.
In The Patchwork Girl of Oz, the seventh book in the series, I was surprised—and pleased—to encounter a bit of science. Even better, it’s totally outdated science. Continue reading
